11 Reasons DiNozzo and McGee broke Rule Number 12
by x-blindingdarkness
Summary: Just some cute Tony/Tim fluff. Written for the 11-reasons comm on LJ. Slash.
1. Chest

Eleven Reasons DiNozzo and McGee Broke Rule Number 12

Some guys liked asses. Some liked stomachs. Some liked arms or legs - but Anthony DiNozzo was a chest man. He'd always been that way; he preferred a nice round pair of breasts to toned legs or a nice ass (not that he complained about the other aspects of the body, but they just weren't his number one pick).

One day, when he was in the locker room before working out with McGee, he happened to look up just as the Probie was pulling his NCIS t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Tony admired McGee's chest for a split second before looking back down at his shoes and focusing on untying the laces. When McGee asked him a question, he took full advantage of the opportunity to look up again, wondering what it would feel like to run his hands all over that smooth skin which, he couldn't help noticing, was a lot more toned than he had expected. As McGee continued rambling on about something or other, DiNozzo took his own shirt off and made a point to stretch, flexing his abs when he brought his arms back down. His straight face turned into a smirk only when he could have sworn he saw Probie peeking at him. Yes, Anthony DiNozzo was definitely a chest man.


	2. Ass

When McGee walked into the bullpen on a boring Monday morning, he expected to see Ziva and Tony sitting at their desks, working - well, he expected half of them to be working. There was no doubt in his mind that Tony would, as usual, be tormenting Ziva with movie quotes and sarcasm. However, he did not expect Tony to be strutting, squirming and hopping around the office, a look of displeasure on his face. McGee set his bag down on his desk, crossed his arms and said, "Hey."

Ziva, who had been laughing uproariously at this little show, looked over at the new arrival and chuckled. "His pants are too tight," she said, still grinning. Tony stopped flailing around long enough to walk right up to McGee, get about an inch away from him, hook his thumb into the waistband of the offending pants, and pull. They didn't budge, not even a tiny bit.

"Oh, wow, those are tight. Why are you wearing them? If we get a case, you'll never be able to-"

"I know, Probie," DiNozzo growled, teeth gritted and an irritated look on his face. He brought his hand up to slap McGee in the back of the head, Gibbs-style, before he started squirming again, pulling desperately at the fabric.

Just as he did, Leroy Jethro Gibbs walked in, giving Tony his own headslap. "Petty Officer Norman Wells, thirty-two, found hanging from his shower rod. Grab your gear; Ziva, get the truck." Gibbs grabbed his gun and badge, stowed them away, tossed Ziva the keys, then reached into his bottom drawer and threw Tony a pair of pants. "Get changed, DiNozzo. Can't work like that." Tony's eyes widened with gratitude and he didn't even bother to wonder why Gibbs had a pair of his pants in that drawer, but he was sure happy that he did. McGee was in the middle of grabbing his gear when he saw DiNozzo start walking to his desk, and he couldn't help but check out Tony's ass as he was grabbing his gun. Personally, McGee wouldn't have minded had Tony not changed out of the tight pants - they didn't make him look half-bad.


	3. Anxiety

The low emergency lights flashed on as soon as Tony flicked the elevator stop switch. McGee looked at him, an eyebrow raised, and shook his head. "What are you doing? No, we have to get back to Abby's lab, Gibbs said to show up as soon as possible, he's gonna flip out if-"

"Relax, Probie," Tony groaned, taking a step toward the other agent. "You're too anxious. You need to… calm down…" He continued stepping until McGee was leaning into the corner of the elevator, placing his hands on the walls that were on either side of McGee. "Just… calm…" He trailed off as he leaned in and pressed his lips to McGee's. Satisfaction warmed his entire body as he felt McGee's tension disappear, his entire body relaxing and seeming to melt into Tony. Pulling his arms away from the walls, he wrapped them around McGee's waist and pulled him close, kissing him with all of the passion and tenderness in the world.

When they finally broke apart, McGee just looked up at Tony, reached over and flipped the emergency switch again, placing another quick kiss on the other agent's lips. "We need to go," he said, and Tony felt the tension return to McGee's body. It was okay, he thought as he removed his arms from McGee's waist, shaking his head and smirking. Maybe McGee's anxiety wasn't such a bad thing.


	4. Mischievous

Tony had seen it on a T.V. show once. Wait until the co-worker has gone home for the night, then make Jell-o, put his stapler in it, refrigerate, and wait. Well, McGee didn't use his stapler very often, so Tony had taken the liberty of Jell-O-casing his cell phone, instead. He'd taken the battery out and put it in a safe location - McGee had left the thing in his desk, for some reason - so there was no possibility of damaging the phone itself. Now, McGee's cell was safely on his desk, encased in a nice, jiggly bowl of watermelon-flavored Jell-O.

"Tony," Ziva said as she entered the bullpen, glancing over at McGee's desk, "why is there a bowl of gelatin on McGee's desk?" Upon further investigation, she noticed something strange about the bowl and looked at Tony. "McGee's cell phone is in the gelatin."

Tony flashed his signature grin and shrugged. "I got bored last night," he said, taking a bite of watermelon Jell-O from the small cup on his desk. "McGee will appreciate the humor."

Just then, McGee walked in and raised an eyebrow. "What humor will I appreciate, exactly?" Setting his bag down on the floor behind his desk, he turned to sit down and froze, staring at the bowl on his desk top. "Why is my phone in a bowl of Jell-O, Tony?" He looked up at the Italian agent, who merely shrugged again and downed another large spoonful of watermelon gelatin.

"Lucky for me," McGee began, walking over to Tony's desk, "I realized halfway to my house last night that I left my phone. It was too late to come back, and I figured you'd do something to it, so…" He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a cheap TracFone, and flashed it at Tony. "I bought this. Prepaid, same number, and my real phone is de-activated for the time being. So… nice try, DiNozzo." He smiled, went over and grabbed the bowl off of his desk, and set it on Tony's. Tony, spoon still in his mouth, just gaped at McGee, and he had to admit that he was a little shocked when McGee pulled the spoon straight out of Tony's mouth, stuck it in his own bowl, scooped up some watermelon Jell-O, and put it in his own mouth. "Mmm," he moaned, taking the spoon and replacing it into Tony's open mouth. "Watermelon. My favorite."


	5. Movie

'Casablanca' was a good movie - McGee would never deny that - it was just that he didn't find it as obviously inspiring and quote-worthy as Tony seemed to. With the constant outbursts of "Here's looking at you, kid," and "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine," McGee and Ziva were losing it. Most importantly, Gibbs was losing it. Head slaps became a routine occurrence, and every time Tony would say, "This reminds me of 'Casablanca'," Gibbs would turn on his heel and glare at him so harshly that Ziva was convinced Tony's children would be able to feel it.

One day, though, while they were working on a case, McGee pointed out a piece of evidence that Tony had overlooked. He also found some scarring on the victim's jaw, bagged all of the evidence, and hacked into the suspect's laptop, giving them the information they needed to solve the case. And when Tony comes up to him with his signature grin, his eyes bright, he claps a hand on McGee's shoulder and says, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," it makes McGee think that maybe Tony's movie quotes aren't so bad.


	6. Book

McGee was no Stephen King. He was no Mark Twain, no William Shakespeare, no Harper Lee. Ask anyone – he wrote for his own enjoyment.

The book had been a mistake.

He hadn't meant to upset anyone, really; the book was just for fun. His _Deep__Six_ series was just a way to make a little extra money and have a creative outlet. So Gibbs' character was in love with a Lt. Colonel. So Tony and Ziva's characters were lovers. So Palmer's character was... odd. It wasn't as though that's how McGee actually saw them, but none of them understood that.

They said they hated the book, said it didn't make sense, said he needed to stop writing the series.

It was only when he saw the book on Tony's desk, opened to a sexual scene between 'Tommy' and 'Lisa', that he decided to continue writing. Tony had crossed out all mentions of Ziva's character, Lisa, and replaced the names with 'McGregor'. Each and every one of them. McGee grinned as he made his way back to his desk, already formulating plans for his next book.

The book hadn't been a mistake.


	7. Kindness

When Tony's dad died, he didn't want to talk about it. In fact, that's all he told the team: "I don't want to talk about it. Let's get back to work." If anyone so much as came near him, that was the response they received. Even Gibbs, who was normally the only person Tony felt he _had_ to talk to, was greeted by a sharp nod and a brisk mumble of, "I'm fine." Gibbs could tell, as he always could, that something wasn't right with Tony. Of course, he knew that Tony and his dad had never been particularly close, but still - a dead dad was a dead dad, and it was bound to negatively affect his senior agent.

Two weeks later, as Tony busied himself with office work and small tasks, McGee watched him in contemplation. Normally, Tony would've dropped all his busywork on McGee's desk, claiming seniority before going back to his own corner and kicking his feet up. Now, however, Tony was perfectly content to fill out his own paperwork, fill his own coffee cup, and even sharpen his own pencils. It worried McGee - not because he liked doing Tony's grudge work, but because this wasn't the Special Agent DiNozzo that he, as a Probie, had come to know and respect. After a few minutes of watching Tony stare at the same e-mail, he finally stood and made his way over to the desk on the other side of the bullpen.

"Tony," he started quietly, gazing down at the elder agent. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but... if you do, I'm..." He sighed, putting a hand lightly on Tony's shoulder. The small twitch he felt beneath his fingers would have been concerning, had he not seen the smile on Tony's face. It was nothing like the smile he usually saw from Tony; the trademark grin that never quite reached his eyes. It was genuine and sincere, a smile that McGee knew was reserved only for those Tony truly cared for.

"Thanks, Probie," Tony said, reaching a hand up to cover McGee's. Their fingers loosely meshed for a moment, Tony's index finger linking into McGee's, eyes locking just before McGee smiled and pulled his hand away, patting Tony's back and returning to his own desk.

No, Tony didn't want to talk about it, but he still needed someone to listen.


	8. Vanity

One of the first things that Timothy McGee noticed about Anthony Dinozzo, Jr. was that he was not shy about his appearance. From the collar of his Prada shirt to the buttons on his Armani suit and even the laces on his Gucci shoes, it was very evident that the man liked to make himself look good. And why shouldn't he? DiNozzo certainly possessed the capability of pulling off the sexy-and-sophisticated look.

In fact, it became a little difficult to work with Tony, particularly when he was constantly checking his reflection in a toaster in the break room or fixing his hair with the sharp end of a pencil. Those minor issues, however, were usually solved by the palm of Gibbs' hand colliding with the back of Tony's head. The real problem that McGee found came up a lot while he was with Tony was that DiNozzo seemed to bring up a lot of memories. Memories of closeted jocks in high school needing help with their Sociology papers and coming onto McGee, then swearing him to secrecy. Memories of smooth-talking bisexuals in college that treated McGee like "he deserved to be treated", then broke it off with him two weeks later. Memories of the one man he'd ever truly loved - the man with a fear of commitment and an urge to convince himself and the world that he was straight.

Tony's sophistication, his class, his raw magnetism; they were all great things when he was trying to coax an alibi out of a female suspect, but they weren't such great things when McGee was faced with the animal desire to rip all of Tony's clothes off.

One day, as Tony was babbling about some new line of Armani suits, McGee simply glanced down at his own suit and then uncertainly back up at DiNozzo. He thought the gesture has been rather subtle, but it wasn't; no sooner had he glanced up than Tony was at his side in the small apartment (the Nerd-Cave, as it was commonly referred to by Tony), smiling over at him. McGee felt his fingers lacing through Tony's, then a sweet kiss being placed against his forehead. "You're perfect the way you are... you don't need suits, or shoes, or..." Tony trailed off, lips pressing lightly against McGee's. And suddenly, the vanity was no longer important - he had Tony, and that was better than all the Armani money could buy.


	9. Snuggle

It took a lot to break Tony's walls down.

Even Gibbs had found the task a bit difficult - at first, anyway. Nowadays, Tony was an open book for the silver-haired agent, but back in Baltimore, it hadn't been quite so easy. Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. didn't let his guard down for just _anybody_; come to think of it, neither did Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. It was a family trait, Tony supposed, passed down through the years. Even the plethora of girls that saw Tony's bedroom didn't know a thing about him, although they liked to think that they did.

One December night, McGee came to Tony's apartment 'just because' - something that _never_ happened - and simply sat, silent, on the sofa next to the Italian man as they watched television and Tony drank a bottle of beer. When one was offered to him, McGee gave a slow, quiet shake of the head and after a bit of prying, Tony finally found out what was wrong: McGee's sister had gotten into a car wreck, was in critical condition, and the snow was preventing him from flying out to see her.

It took a lot to break Tony's walls down.

But the minute McGee began to speak in that sad little voice, sinking into the couch as though he just wanted to disappear, Tony wrapped his arms around the agent and pulled him close, leaning back against the arm of the couch and allowing McGee's head to rest on his chest. He could hear quiet little sniffles, could feel tears slowly seeping through the fabric of his NCIS sweatshirt, and he frowned. He put his legs under McGee's and lifted with his calves so that both men were lying on the couch - McGee's head on Tony's chest, Tony's strong arms around McGee's body (which seemed a lot smaller as it curled up next to Tony's).

They fell asleep like that, hours later, and when Tony awoke the next morning, McGee was still curled up into a fragile little ball. Tony's first thought as he opened his eyes was that he was grateful to possess such a large sofa. McGee's backside was wedged into the crease where the back of the sofa met the cushions, his legs were hanging over Tony's, head still resting on Tony's chest, one arm draped over Tony's stomach, a handful of the NCIS sweatshirt tightly clutched in his fist. Tony gently pried his shirt loose from McGee's grip, and before he could move his hand, McGee's fingers found his and somehow, they became laced together. For a split second, Tony froze, but instinct soon took over and he re-adjusted their hands, giving McGee's a light squeeze and kissing him atop the head. Just before Tony fell back asleep, he took a lingering glance at his hand, which was still holding onto McGee's. When McGee woke up two hours later, he found their fingers intertwined, and for once in his life, he didn't freak out - he merely took tighter hold of Tony's hand and moved his head up on Tony's chest, enjoying the feel of Tony's body against his own.

It took a lot to break Tony's walls down.


	10. Swallow

They go to a bar because work has been so goddamned _stressful_ lately, and because Tony says he'll buy the rounds if McGee will change out of his ridiculous attempt at casual clothes - an NCIS sweatshirt that's about four sizes too big for him, jeans that keep falling down, and Adidas sandals. So McGee throws on a t-shirt, normal-sized pants, and a pair of tennis shoes that he at least knows won't fall apart during the car ride to the bar, and they hop in DiNozzo's car, and they go to O'Malley's.

They're sitting in a corner booth, beer bottles in hand, heads bent together and voices low as they sit and murmur about various things: how terrifying Gibbs is when he's really stressed out, how Ducky's stories seem to get longer as weeks go by with the case unsolved, how Palmer reminds them both of a skittish little kitten. The squirming sensation in Tony's stomach still hasn't settled, and he finally leans back into the booth, swirling the beer around in its bottle, just watching McGee as he takes a drink.

Tony watches McGee's lips curve to press against the opening of the bottle, watches his fingers curl around the neck, watches him tip it up until the liquid flows past his lips, watches his throat work to swallow. The motions of McGee's throat capture Tony's attention and he smirks, settling against the corner of his side of the booth, staring. The muscles work to force the liquid down, McGee's adam's apple is bobbing, and once he finally finishes his drink, he puts the bottle down and clears his throat, making both an audible noise and a visible movement. McGee raises his eyebrows and looks at Tony as if to say, _what the hell are you looking at?_

Tony just meets McGee's gaze and grins like an idiot, unable to help it.


	11. Invitation to a Ball

_before i begin the eleventh and therefore final 'reason' of this fic, i'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who is reading this, particularly those of you that have subscribed to the story or me as an author. as i write reason #11, this story has gotten 32 reviews. that may not seem like much, but it's the largest following i've gotten to date and it makes me extremely happy and grateful. thank you so much to everyone that's followed the fic thus far, and i hope you all subscribe to me, as i'll be writing more in the imminent future! and with that, i present to you... reason number 11._

Anyone who thought an annual NCIS ball was a good idea needed to be water-boarded and shot in the ass, as far as Tony was concerned. Being a team member, Tony was forced to attend - they all were- and they were _required_ to bring a date. It was ridiculous, because he never seemed to be dating someone by the time the ball rolled around, and he didn't exactly feel like flipping through his little black book to find someone he barely knew or liked. It was always awkward, he had to be stiff and polite, and very little dancing even occurred. The purpose was supposedly to "unite NCIS as a team", but it never worked.

This year, however, was going to be different. McGee had been watching him for weeks, and Tony wasn't the only one to notice. For Christ's sakes, he was practically a puppy dog; even Ziva had noticed how he went all googly-eyed every time Tony walked into the room. He'd made some off-hand remark about how he was going to 'fall deathly ill' on the night of the ball, just because he didn't have anyone to go with. The truth was, Tony had been rambling about the hot woman he was taking to the ball, and McGee was overtly jealous.

So, when the night of the ball finally arrived, Tony made his way up the stairs and to the door of McGee's apartment, straightening his tie and fixing his collar before knocking on the door, a tuxedo in his other hand. McGee opened the door to a grinning, dapper-looking DiNozzo, who then extended the tux to him and waved a hand as if to rush him along. "Come on," he said, ushering himself inside. "We're going to be late. That's got a tux, shoes, a tie, even cufflinks. So hurry up."

McGee put the tux on the back of the couch and looked suspiciously around. "What are you doing? I told you I'm not going."

Tony smirked, shrugged, and went right up to McGee. "Fine, but if you don't go, I'll be stuck with Laura instead of you, and I don't think she'd like me as much as you would." Just as McGee's face was twisting into a confused expression, Tony leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth, his hands finding McGee's hips and pulling them towards his own.

When the kiss had broken, McGee took a step back, looking dazed, and then grinned, grabbing the tux and rushing to the bathroom.

Maybe taking a date wouldn't be so bad, after all.


End file.
